


Whole (boyxboyxboy)

by Naturalin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Brothers, Erotica, Gay, Harems, M/M, Sibling Incest, Slavery, Twincest, Violence, Yaoi, explixit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 03:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21331894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naturalin/pseuds/Naturalin
Summary: Deon's brother is sold as a concubine to a prince.Warning: This story contains mature content and twincest (18+).
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	1. Forgive me

**A/N: Hello lovely people! A reminder, in case you missed the description, this story contains twincest. It's a darker one - hope you like it! Please comment and 🖤**

The window creaked open and Deon peeked through his lashes, when Alen slipped outside.

Since they had turned fourteen Alen had begun sneaking out at night. He wouldn't tell his brother where he was going and Deon eventually stopped asking.

He shut his eyes, ignoring the worry churning in his belly, and tried to sleep.

He woke to arms slipping around him and a slender body pressing close. Alen hadn't slept next to him in years and Deon started to smile, until he smelled the liquor.

"Deee..." Alen slurred and nuzzled his face into Deon's neck. "M'cold."

"Ugh." Deon started to push Alen away and his brother whimpered like a child.

"Don't kick me out..." Alen said in a small voice and Deon sighed.

He turned, lifting his blanket and Alen pushed into his arms. His hair reeked of tobacco and Deon's stomach turned.

"Love you, De." Alen whispered against his shoulder and Deon's heart warmed.

"Love you." He replied, but Alen was already snoring softly.

......

The rooster announced dawn the next morning and Deon forced his sore eyes open. Alen was plastered against his chest, red mouth open and sable hair rippling over the pillow.

"Len?" Deon smoothed a strand away from his brother's eyes and admired the way Alen's lashes fluttered against his cheeks. "It's morning."

Alen frowned, turned his head and vomited all over the bed.

Deon took a deep breath for patience, instantly regretting it at the sour stench, and counted slowly to ten. With others he had difficulty controlling his temper, but not with Alen.

He got up and helped Alen across the narrow room to his own cot. Then he fetched a bucket of water and astringent soap.

"Boys!" His mother banged on the door. "Get up!"

Alen groaned into his pillow and Deon rushed to the door, opening it just enough to stick his head out.

"Alen's sick. Stomach flu." He lied and his mother paled, adjusting her grip more firmly on their one-year-old baby sister, Alise.

"Not again! We don't have time to be sick. How do you feel?"

"Fine." Deon smiled thinly. "I'll clean up and come down."

"Thank you, dear." His mother leaned forward to kiss his cheek, then thought better of it with sickness in the house and hurried downstairs.

Deon cleaned up the vomit and bundled the sheets to be washed. He then fetched a large cup of water and a bowl of thin porridge and placed it on the small stool that Alen used as a nightstand.

He stroked his brother's silky hair and hurried outside. He had to catch up on both of their chores now. He fed the chickens, the goats and the pigs. Then he mucked out the stalls and fetched fresh grain for the cows.

Much later he sat down, exhausted, and finally had his breakfast.

......

A few days later he was digging up potatoes when a shadow fell over him.

"Dee..." Alen pressed warm against his spine and hugged him around the waist. "Tally's here."

Deon scowled and hacked into the earth with more force than necessary. Tally was the blacksmith's son, a tall boy with brown hair and freckles.

Alen had been spending a lot of time with him lately and Deon didn't like it one bit. He had never bothered making friends. He had everything he needed right here. But Alen didn't think that way.

"Can you feed the chickens for me?" Alen's nose brushed Deon's neck.

"You need to start doing some work." Deon grumbled and bent to brush the soil off the potatoes. Alen followed him, arms sliding to his chest.

"I hate work. I just want to relax and enjoy myself."

"We all do, Len." Deon shrugged his shoulder to dislodge his brother, but he did it gently and Alen just hugged him tighter.

"You don't. You love it." Alen said quietly, breath tickling over his ear. "Don't lie."

Deon threw a handful of potatoes into a bucket. It was true. Sometimes it was hard to get up in the morning, but once he got started his muscles began to burn, in a good way, and he felt proud of himself afterwards.

"Please, De." Alen's soft cheek smoothed over his temple and Deon sighed.

"Fine."

Alen's touch instantly vanished and he leapt up, running across the field. Forgetting all about Deon the minute he got what he wanted. Deon clenched his jaw and piled the rest of the potatoes into the bucket.

When he'd fed the chickens, and collected the eggs, he trudged back with a basket on his arm and saw the door to the shed was open a crack. He went to close it and stopped dead in his tracks.

Alen was stretched out on his back in the hay and Tally was kissing him. Alen's slender hands were gliding through the older boy's hair and Tally's hips were thrusting slowly between Alen's legs.

Deon flushed hot and cold so rapidly he felt dizzy and he swung away from the shed, walking fast. His chest felt tight and his breaths became ragged. By the time he'd reached the kitchen, he was furious.

"Mom!" He shouted and kicked the door open. "Alen's not doing his chores!"

But it was their father who was standing in the kitchen, back large and imposing, as he wiped pigs blood off his hands. Deon froze.

His mother frowned at him from the table, hand poised to feed Alise.

"Again? That boy needs a serious talking to." She said.

"Where is he?" Their father flashed a hard look over his shoulder.

"I-in..." Deon hesitated, but then he remembered Tally's tongue worming between his brother's lips and his hands fisted. "In the shed."

His father threw down the cloth and strode out the door. Deon's insides twisted with uncertainty and his mother smiled at him.

"It's good you finally said something. I know he's been..." Her voice cut off at her husband's roar. "What on earth?"

A moment later Deon's father came marching into the kitchen, with Alen's collar in his fist.

"Get in there and kneel!" The man shouted and threw his son across the room. Alen stumbled into the living area, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Their father stepped back outside and more shouting commenced. Deon cringed and set down his basket. Alise started to cry and his mother rocked the baby, eyes wide with confusion.

Deon's father reappeared with a belt in his hands and slammed the door on Alen's sobs.

Deon heard the strike of the belt, and his brother's muffled cries, and felt lower than dirt.

Their father stepped out later with a stony expression. His only response to their mother's questions was a curt: "He needed it."

Alen was sent to bed without dinner and Deon felt too guilty to eat. Later, when he'd helped clear the table, he snuck a piece of honey cake upstairs and opened their bedroom door.

The room was dark, but a sliver of moonlight illuminated his brother's dark head on his pillow.

Deon slipped inside and lit an oil lamp. "Len?"

He winced at the bloody welts on Alen's slender spine and buttocks. He'd felt the burn of their father's belt a dozen times himself, but never like this.

Deon swallowed tightly and knelt beside the bed. "Can you eat?"

Alen said nothing and Deon broke off a piece of sticky cake and held it to his brother's lips.

Alen's mouth opened and Deon patiently fed him each bite. When it was gone Alen licked the icing from Deon's fingers.

"Thanks, De." He croaked and Deon smoothed away the soft hair from Alen's damp neck. His brother's skin was hot with fever.

"I'll get mom..." Deon started to rise, but their mother was already shouldering open the door, with a basin in her hands.

She cleaned, salved and bandaged the wounds. Alen gripped Deon's hand and grit his teeth through the pain.

"What did you do to make him so mad?" When Alen said nothing their mother frowned and looked at Deon. "What was it Deon?"

Alen's fingers spasmed in his hand and Deon felt sick.

"You saw it first." His mother continued and finished tying the bandage.

When Deon just stared at the floor, their mother stood with a huff and left the room. Alen turned slowly to look up at him.

"Did you?" He whispered, eyes glittering hollowly in the glow of the lamp.

Deon's eyes filled with tears. It was answer enough.

Alen ripped his hand away and slapped Deon hard across the face, hissing at the pull on his bandages.

"I'm sorry." Deon mumbled, tears running down his face. "So sorry, Len. I don't know why I said it."

Alen turned away, shoulders trembling with silent sobs.

Deon went to bed feeling cold all over, apart from the hot sting on his cheek that echoed in his chest.

......

Alen was sick in bed the next day. Their mother changed his bandages and brought him broth and tea. Deon did all of their chores and more. He would do anything to make amends.

But this wasn't like their usual fights over sweets or scraped knees. Alen had never looked at Deon that way before. As if he was a stranger.

In the evening, when Deon was clearing away the table, his father caught him alone.

"Your brother's sick, son. Like those heathens down south. Don't tell your mother, it'll only upset her." He squeezed Deon's shoulder in his large hand. "You'll do me proud, won't you?"

Deon looked up in surprise and nodded. He didn't think Alen was sick, but his father wasn't the type you talked back to.

The man nodded and his weathered face softened a fraction. "You were always a good lad. Hardworking. Not like him. You hear?" His fingers squeezed until it hurt and Deon steeled his spine.

"I hear." He said and his father left him.

Deon turned and saw Alen standing in the doorway, small face pale and jaw tight.

Deon just shook his head and stared at his brother, knowing Alen could read him without words, like he'd always done. But Alen's eyes narrowed to bitter slits and he walked away.

......

During the next month Alen withdrew more and more. He stopped doing his chores entirely. He went out at night. Sometimes, he didn't come home for days and Deon felt sick with worry.

One night, Deon heard the latch on the window open. His back faced the room and he stared blindly at the wall. Light steps approached and he felt a gentle caress on his hair.

There was a long moment, where he remained still, and felt warmth spread from the touch. Then the hand lifted, steps whispered across the floor and the window shut. When Deon turned to look, the room was empty.

......

The king's men came to the market the next day. Their clothes were stitched from the finest white leather and their red cloaks flowed over the back of their elegant steeds.

As a gift to the prince in the south, they needed a group of beautiful boys. Deon's mother gripped his shoulder tight and his father stepped forward to shield him.

Roi, a small boy with white-blonde hair was picked first. Ferrin, a tall redhead was next. And just when they were deciding between two others, Alen stepped through the crowd and was chosen instantly.

Deon's heart pounded and he lurched forward, but his father grabbed his arm and flashed him a look that could chill the strongest men.

The parents announced themselves and money exchanged hands. Alen was lifted onto a soldier's white horse, heading straight for the harbour. He never looked back.

......

That night Deon didn't sleep. They had always been together. Always. They weren't meant to be apart. The empty bed across from him felt like a tomb and everywhere he looked evoked memories of alabaster skin and warm laughter.

Deon pushed off his blankets and walked to the window, peering towards the harbour and the ocean beyond. A cloud passed by the moon and the glass shone like a mirror.

Alen's reflection stared back at him. Eyes like black wounds in the dark.


	2. Fear

Deon's mother spent a long time meticulously tidying their home, until she'd removed all traces of Alen. His clothes, his bed and the small trinkets he'd collected from the markets. She never grieved or showed any sign that she missed her son. Not to Deon's eyes anyway.

Deon went through the motions like a sleep walker. The pain in his chest was constant and Alen's memory was everywhere.

In the fields, in the trees, in the rooms and in smells. Like a missing limb Deon could still feel him. Warm and constant like the sun.

"Deon?"

Deon paused with a basket of eggs on his arm and looked over his shoulder at Tally.

He hadn't seen Tally since the incident two weeks ago and the boy still carried the last remnants of a black eye.

"...I heard about Alen. But I wasn't there to see it." Tally leaned against the fence and looked around the yard uneasily. No doubt wary of Deon's father.

Deon had spent the nights asking himself: Why? Why had Alen left. And there were many reasons. But Deon had reached the conclusion that it was his own fault.

But now, seeing this tall boy with his earnest face, Deon felt angry. Livid. Because if Tally hadn't touched Alen, Deon might still have his brother.

His fists clenched around the basket and he turned away.

"Wait!" The gate opened and quick steps crunched over the gravel.

Deon kept walking and a hand gripped his shoulder. The same hand that had run over Alen's smooth skin.

Deon swung around and looked up. Tally's eyes widened and he took a hasty step back. Then he blinked and his expression became dazed.

"You really...you look just like him." Blue eyes flicked to the ground and Tally glanced up with a shy smile. Deon felt cold rage wash over him.

He distantly registered Tally's shocked expression, before the boy was on the ground and Deon was straddling him. Swinging his fist over and over.

His pulse thundered and each hit felt like a release of all the sorrow, the pain and the guilt that was eating him alive.

"Deon!" Rough hands tore him away and gripped his wrists hard.

"I told you never to come back here!" His father roared and Tally scrambled to his feet, face chalk white beneath the blood, and ran like the hounds of hell were at his heels.

Deon trembled and he couldn't get enough air.

"Hey!" A large hand gripped his neck and a slap burned his cheek. Slowly, his eyes focused on his father's face. "What did he say? What did that filthy pervert do to you?"

Deon panted and his eyes filled with tears. His father just watched him.

"H-he said...I looked...like Alen." He choked out. The man's face hardened and he stepped back.

"We don't know anybody by that name." His cold eyes raked over the ground. "Clean up this mess."

His father left and Deon bent down to pick up the shattered eggshells. His hands shook and his knuckles were torn.

He hadn't had a fit like that in years. A complete loss of control that left him frightened and ashamed afterwards. Alen always used to hold him and stroke his hair until it was over.

......

That night he gathered his meagre belongings into a leather pouch. Along with a small loaf of bread, an apple and a hunk of cheese.

He pushed the window open and looked around his bedroom one last time. He wondered if his parents would miss him or if he would be erased, as easily as his brother.

His father had intended for Deon to inherit the farm and that had been Deon's plan for his life too, until Alen left. But his parents still had Alise and they were young enough to conceive another child.

Deon wiped his eyes and shut the window quietly. He climbed down the roof, imagining Alen's footsteps and the many times his brother had taken the same route.

When he reached the town the first rays of dawn colored the streets. A few merchants were already setting up their stalls, unloading carts full of animals, fabrics and vegetables. His parents would be searching for him by now.

He hurried down to the harbour and stood on the stone steps overlooking the ships. The ocean lapped against the wooden beams and the air was fresh with salt.

Deon had never liked the ocean. It was too vast. Too deep. And full of creatures with lidless eyes and sharp teeth. He took a deep breath and approached one of the men.

"Only one of us heading south is the Augustine." The fisherman nodded towards a large clinker-built ship. "But it's a long trip."

Deon eyed the men loading cargo and quickly identified the chief; a large man with steel grey hair, bellowing orders.

"I could use more hands. Strong ones." The man answered him and set down a crate. He eyed Deon's slender build skeptically. "Looks like a strong wind could blow you away."

Deon frowned, slung his pouch across his chest, and bent to grip the crate. It weighed more than three sacks of grain, but he grit his teeth and straightened his spine, lifting slowly. He stepped onto the ship and placed the crate beside the others.

He jumped back on land and lifted another with trembling arms. The man roared at him to move faster and Deon knew he had passed inspection.

When the ship was stocked, Deon climbed on board and wiped his sweaty face with his shirt.

"How long until we reach Peraan?" He asked a man with leathery skin and a few missing teeth.

"Nine months give or take." The man said and pulled in the ropes. Deon stared, bewildered.

"Nine months? I thought it was five." He said.

"We're making two stops." The man gestured towards the cargo. "To trade."

Deon received a sharp cuff on his head and rushed to unload supplies.

......

He was violently ill during the first night. The ship rocked and the stench of brine and unwashed bodies was unbearable. He missed solid ground and fresh earth beneath his feet.

The next day he was weak, but his gut had settled and he was ready for light tasks. Within a few months he had adjusted to life at sea and he hated it.

His bunk had lice, the food was bland and sometimes a hand would touch his ass, as if by accident. But the men quickly learned to steer clear of him.

"Hey!" Gell, a boy a few years older than Deon, with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes, plopped down next to him. "You got the night shift again."

Deon grunted in acknowledgement and bit into a dried strip of meat.

Gell passed him a jug of beer and Deon took a deep swig.

"Aren't you tired?" Deon knew Gell had been working hard, replacing the rigging all day.

"Nah. It's fine." Gell shrugged, but Deon noticed the blisters on the boy's hands.

Gell was an orphan who had lived on ships his entire life and he'd been thrilled to work with someone closer to his own age, even if Deon didn't talk much.

Deon passed back the beer and adjusted the animal hide around his shoulders. The nights were freezing.

"The weather will heat up soon." Gell said and shifted closer, until their shoulders touched. "And then you'll be off, right?"

Deon nodded and Gell shook his head.

"You ever wonder if your brother will want to leave? People get used to luxury."

Deon's jaw clenched and he took another bite of jerky. He wondered that all the time. Alen had always dreamed of an easy life, but Deon had thought his brother loved him enough to stay anyway.

In the back of his mind he knew Alen's reasons weren't that simple, but fear made him irrational.

"And if he wants to, do you think the guards will just open their doors for you? Let you take from a prince?" Gell continued and Deon stood, walking quickly to the other side of the ship.

Anxiety gnawed in the pit of his stomach and his nails dug into his palms.

"Oy! I was only asking." Gell caught his arm and Deon spun around, lifting his fist.

Deon had a temper, but Gell had grown up learning how to fend for himself and he quickly had the smaller boy pinned against the side of the cabin.

Deon snarled and snapped his teeth like a dog.

"Calm down!" Gell exclaimed and a window beside them flew open.

"If you two don't shut up, I'll have you thrown overboard!" The cook shouted and Gell grinned.

"Sorry! We're just playing." He said amiably, but his body was trembling with the effort it took to keep Deon still.

The man cursed a foul stream, no doubt waking the entire crew, and slammed the window shut.

"He's gonna spit in our meals now." Gell said and that disgusting reality made Deon calm a fraction and pant through his teeth.

Gell stared down at him. The boy wasn't unattractive, even if his nose had been broken a few times and his front tooth was chipped.

"You're beautiful, you know. I've never seen a man look like you." Gell said quietly.

Surprise cleared away the fog and Deon looked up. Gell smiled softly and Deon forced his brows into a scowl.

"Men aren't beautiful." He hissed, even though Alen was. They looked the same, but Deon knew he didn't emanate Alen's warmth or charm.

"Even when you make that face." Gell murmured and kissed him.

Deon froze and his heart stuttered. Gell's lips were warm and soft, but the body against him was hard, calloused hands gripping his wrists. It wasn't...unpleasant.

A wet tongue slid over his lip and Deon turned his face away, heart pounding. Gell kissed his cheek instead.

"There are no girls here." The older boy whispered. "Think about it."

And just like that the fury was back and Deon struggled. Gell let him go this time, stepping away with a crooked grin.

"No. There are no girls here." Deon agreed tightly, thinking of the derogatory comments he'd heard from some of the crew, when they thought he wasn't listening. Gell's smile went instantly.

"I-I didn't mean..." Gell started, but Deon was already marching away.

He returned to his post and stared out at the ocean. After a moment he heard the door to the cabin shut quietly and knew he was alone.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He tried not to think about the dark eyes he'd pictured when Gell had licked his mouth and what it meant. His cock was still painfully hard and tears of shame stung behind his lids.

He pushed away the animal skin and let the icy wind cut into him, until his erection softened and he was calm again. He shivered and bundled back up.

The stars were lovely back home. But they were otherworldly out here, with no town lights to compete with their shine.

Deon watched them reflect on that endless black water and had an idea of what he might do, if his brother turned him away.


	3. Love

Deon had been falling asleep on his watch when the sun scorched his cheeks. He blinked rapidly, trying to wake. He'd been given the night shift six days in a row and he was exhausted.

He stretched his arms above his head,  
feeling his back crack satisfyingly, and looked up.

A white beach glowed in the distance and he jumped to his feet.

"Land!" He shouted and ran to bang on the windows.

Gell was up first and leaned over the edge with bright eyes. Even if he was sad to see Deon go, land meant food, a real bed and girls.

The water was crystal clear and beyond the cliffs the palace gleamed in blue and gold spirals.

Sleek white fishing boats breezed past them - and Peraan men with brown skin and pale eyes caught their ropes and tied them to the dock.

A gangplank was attached to the ship and Deon forced himself to unload cargo, when all he wanted to do was find Alen. The instant the last crate was down, the chief tossed Deon a coin and let him go.

He rushed onto the sand and followed a path of white stairs carved into the cliffs.

"Wait!"

Deon turned reluctantly and Gell pulled him into a hug. He stiffened and patted the boy's back awkwardly. He'd never taken Gell up on his offer, but they had remained friendly throughout the voyage.

"We sail in a week." Gell said and released Deon to smile down at him with pinched eyes. "If you need to, you can always come back."

Deon nodded. He hoped more than anything that it didn't come to that. But Gell had been good to him and he wished the boy well.

He reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto a dusty street, bustling with people in colorful robes. Vendors sold jewelry and sweet smelling fruits, shouting out offers in a foreign tongue.

Animals as large as horses carried people on saddles, but they were black with paws and tipped ears. A child ran into him, while he was dazed, and his coin was gone.

Nearly three hours later he reached the palace. The sun beat down on his head and his throat was dry with dust.

Magnificent fountains flanked the gates and he was tempted to dunk his head into the water. He eyed the muscular guards, with spears in their hands and swords at their hips, and thought better of it.

They watched Deon expressionlessly when he approached. He didn't know Peraan customs and prayed he wasn't about to lose his neck. He greeted them like Telenien royalty, bowing his head and touching both hands to his chest.

There was a long moment of silence, where Deon stared at the marble beneath his feet and waited for permission to speak.

The white stone was nearly blinding in the sun and he was extremely conscious of his lice infested hair and unwashed clothes.

A spear touched beneath his chin and lifted his head. The guard's pale eyes widened and he surged forward, gripping Deon's arm.

He barked out a sentence and Deon was instantly surrounded. His arms were forced behind his back and he was shoved inside the gates. Hope warred with fear when he was dragged through a temple, into a garden.

A clear pond caught the sun dabbling through the trees and white flowers perfumed the air.

A young man lounged on a chaise. A broad gold collar draped across his shoulders and two boys were moving between his long legs. One of them had white-blonde curls. The other had smooth strands, dark as night. Deon's breath caught.

The guard pushed Deon to his knees and spoke.

The man looked up, brows furrowing and mouth slightly open. He had a handsome face with black hair falling to his shoulders.

"Seya." He spoke and one of the heads lifted from his crotch.

Deon made a choked sound and his brother turned towards him. His lids were painted gold and his red mouth was wet.

Alen's eyes widened and he leapt to his feet. He was nude, white skin gleaming with oils and he wore only a gold belt with his cock protruding from a ring.

He looked completely barbaric, but Deon's eyes instantly returned to that beloved face and held. Alen's lips shaped his name silently and then he was sprinting across the lawn, black hair streaming behind him.

He reached Deon in moments and fell to his knees, throwing his arms around his brother's neck.

The painful grip on Deon's wrists vanished and he wrapped Alen in his arms. His heart sang and he buried his filthy face in silky hair smelling of sweet oils.

"...Len." The name ended in a ragged sob and Alen's arms tightened until it hurt.

Eventually, Deon became aware of voices speaking. Alen's face was pressed against his throat, inhaling deeply. Completely uncaring that Deon was covered in grime and saltwater.

"Stand!" A voice commanded in heavily accented Telenien.

Alen reluctantly withdrew and pulled Deon to his feet.

The young man was standing, watching them. A short white kilt wrapped around his lean hips and the blonde stood a little behind him. Deon recognized him as Roi.

"This is your brother?" The prince asked and Alen nodded, arm clutching Deon's waist.

"Yes. We're twins." Alen said. Deon looked a fright and it might not be as apparent as it usually was.

"And he's come all this way?" The prince plucked a cup off a gold platter and sipped. Deon tried not to eye it too desperately. "He cares for you that much?"

Alen leaned against Deon and they smiled at each other.

"Too much." The prince shook his head and moved back to the chaise, gesturing the blonde with him. "You'll be distracted. Take him away."

Icy terror cracked through Deon's chest and Alen gasped when the guards pulled them apart.

Deon snarled and fought like an animal. His arms were trapped, but he could still kick and bite. A hand gripped his hair and ripped his head back. A blade snicked.

"No!" Alen wailed and clawed his way through the men, who seemed reluctant to put their hands on him.

"You disobey me!" The prince roared.

"Wait!" Alen reached Deon, gripped his face between slender hands and kissed his mouth.

Deon tensed with surprise and his heart thumped. Warm breaths puffed against his cheek and Alen's mouth was velvety and damp.

Their surroundings faded away and Deon's eyes shut. Alen lingered for long moments, until their lips parted softly.

Deon's breath released in a gush he hadn't been aware he was holding and he stared at his brother. But Alen was watching the prince.

The prince's light eyes were riveted on them, jeweled fingers gripping Roi's curls between his legs. He spoke shortly and the hands on Deon fell away.

......

"This way." Alen led Deon through marble halls, each one containing a sapphire fountain that cooled the stone. They were holding hands, as if they were children again.

Deon felt lightheaded. He couldn't process his brother's appearance, their surroundings or the kiss. It was too overwhelming.

They entered a chamber full of pools. A few boys were bathing and turned to look at them curiously.

A group of women in sheer skirts approached. They muttered at Deon's rags and one woman pulled out a knife and cut them clean off his body. Another spotted the vermin in his hair and uttered a harsh exclamation.

Deon was dragged away to a basin and his hair was washed with a harsh mixture that seared his scalp and made his eyes water. Afterwards they combed his hair thoroughly and rinsed it with a cooling tincture.

Deon sighed in relief. Judging by Alen's gasp beside him, his brother was getting the same treatment.

Next, Deon's skin was covered in a clay-like paste and scrubbed with hard bristles. A balm soothed his sunburned face and shoulders and his nails were trimmed.

Deon had just begun to relax, when warm sugar drizzled over his groin. He squawked out a protest and the women couldn't hold him down. Alen hurriedly intervened.

With his brother gripping his hand, Deon allowed his tormentors to rip off his body hair and coat him in fragrant oil.

"It's not that bad." Alen laughed and led Deon limping from the pools.

They moved up a flight of turquoise stairs, into a room with a luxurious bed shielded by gold curtains. Silk pillows surrounded a low table decked with platters of fruit, vegetables and meat.

Deon fell on the meal. He drank three large cups of fruit infused water and ate until his stomach bulged. Everything was fresh and heavenly after months of gruel and jerky.

Alen chewed more slowly, watching his brother with warm eyes.

"Sometimes, he sends me wine." Alen said proudly.

The food suddenly felt leaden in Deon's stomach and he tried to brace himself.

"Len, are you happy here?" He asked carefully.

Alen read Deon's face and his smile thinned.

"I am. I think you could be too." Alen pushed back his hair and Deon saw an emerald sparkle beneath his ear. "It's a good life and he's kind. To me."

Deon's chest tightened and he set down the cup, before he accidentally broke it.

"In exchange for..."

"I like it!" Alen snapped.

A muscle jumped in his jaw and Deon had to close his eyes and count to ten. His hands began shaking.

"...De."

He heard Alen shift over the pillows and then his brother was pushing into his lap, gold belt digging into his pelvis.

"I never thought you would leave. You've been so brave." Gentle fingers smoothed the hair from his neck and warm lips pressed to his pulse. Resting a moment, before sliding to his ear. "So brave."

Deon's cock hardened and there was no way Alen missed it.

In the back of his mind he could hear his father shouting. Saying it was wrong for brothers to hold hands. That Alen was too feminine. Too weak. Beating them with fists and belts, until they no longer dared to smile at each other across the table.

His heart sped up and he wanted to fight someone. But not Alen. A sob caught in his throat.

"I have you." Alen stroked Deon's hair and hugged him tight. "I'm here."

And that was what Alen always used to say when they were children and Deon's fits began.

"I'm here."

Deon turned his face into his brother's neck, breathing in Alen's familiar scent beneath the perfume. The smell of safety. Slowly, his anger dispersed and he could breathe again.

Alen felt the change and pushed Deon back against the pillows.

"Len..."

Alen straddled his hips and kissed Deon's chest, soft hair sliding over his skin. Deon's cock jerked and his breath shuddered out.

"We're brothers."

Alen sat up and reached behind him to undo his belt. His ivory shaft bobbed against his flat belly, glossy tip as red as his mouth. When he carefully pulled off the ring, a trickle of precum caught on the gold.

"Len..." It was a plea.

Alen looked down at him, eyes suddenly fierce beneath his lashes.

"Why?" He whispered. "Why can't I love you?"

Alen lowered slowly and they both shuddered at the contact. Skin against skin, groins pressing. Alen wrapped his arms around Deon's neck and rocked his hips.

"Why, De?" His brother's voice cracked on a sob and the pressure exploded.

Deon came in ragged pants. Alen trembled and slick gushed between them. Perfectly in sync, like they had always been.

Alen softened on top of him, breaths heavy against his throat and skin damp. Deon's body shimmered with aftershocks and his heart beat warm in his chest.

It felt right holding Alen this way. Like they were finally as close as they were meant to be. But tears were running down his cheeks, because he knew it was wrong.

Alen caressed Deon's chest and lifted his head to press their brows together. His dark eyes were wet, but he was smiling. _I love you_, his expression said.

Deon's lips parted and his arms tightened around Alen's waist. _I love you, too. More than anything._


	4. Discipline

"De." A kiss brushed over his nape. "Wake up."

Fingertips smoothed back his hair and it felt so good, Deon wanted to remain right where he was. He was more comfortable than he had been in nine months on that wretched ship and he thought he could sleep for a week. A hand gripped his shoulder and shook gently.

"Deon. He's asked for you."

The words brought on a wave of anxiety and Deon's sore eyes opened. He sat up.

Alen smiled at him, dark eyes soft and Deon forgot the words he'd meant to say. His brother was wearing that ridiculous belt again, and Deon wanted to kiss his red mouth with a need that made his hands clench into the silks.

They had touched each other for the first time the previous day and irreversibly changed their relationship. And Deon was afraid, because he'd never heard of anyone living like them and surviving. His brother's smile faded and his body tensed.

"Regrets?" Alen breathed.

Deon thought about it a moment, then shook his head. He loved Alen, plain and simple. He wouldn't regret that. He refused to.

Alen's breath gushed out in relief and he hugged Deon tight. The twins held each other and Deon pressed his lips against Alen's temple - savoring the feel of him and the time they had. For now.

"Come on." Alen finally whispered. "I let you sleep for too long."

Alen pulled Deon to his feet and allowed him a quick drink of water and a bite of fruit. "Hurry!"

They rushed to the pools and Deon's skin was scrubbed and oiled again. He had never been this clean in his entire life. Back at the farm they had washed maybe once a week. Sometimes less during the winter, when the water was freezing.

Boys were splashing around the pools, dark limbs smooth and gleaming. Some of them pleasured each other and Deon kept his eyes carefully averted.

Yesterday he had been lightheaded with hunger and adrenaline. But now he felt the boys attention on him and it made his skin itch. He wasn't used to so many people.

Alen took his hand and led him swiftly down the halls to a room flanked by guards. Before they entered his brother tugged him to a halt and looked him in the eye.

"De, no matter what he says, I want you to do it. It might be difficult at first, but he'll be kind. As long as you obey." Alen's gaze was dark and solemn.

Deon stared and felt his heart quicken. He knew this was coming. He'd seen it with his own eyes. But it was all happening so fast and it didn't feel real.

"I don't know if I can." He said truthfully.

"For me you can." Alen squeezed his palm. "You'll feel good. I promise."

"Len..."

But Alen was already opening the door to an opulent room with high ceilings and stone pillars. Floral bouquets perfumed the air and servants lined the walls, still as statues, apart from one who poured wine into cups on a black stone table.

A balcony let in chilled air from a fountain and the prince was sprawled on a chair, conversing with two men. Roi was in the prince's lap, nuzzling his neck and another boy sat by his feet. One of the men had a girl in his arms and two more girls were on the floor, feeding each other fruits and giggling.

The room quieted when they entered and the men looked up. Deon's skin tightened with apprehension and he was thankful that, at the very least, he wasn't the only one naked.

One of the men grinned with delight and spoke to the prince. He was older, perhaps in his forties. He wore the same white kilt as the prince and gold jewelry adorned his arms and neck.

The girl on his thighs stirred and stretched like a pampered cat. Her body was golden and plump, with black hair falling to her round hips.

"You kept me waiting." The prince nudged Roi off his knee and the blonde sat by his feet with a small frown.

"Come here." The prince extended a hand to Alen.

Alen released Deon instantly and straddled the prince's lap. He twined his arms around the man's broad shoulders and kissed him. Deon felt as though he'd been stabbed in the chest.

His breaths became shallow and his palms grew damp. He couldn't do this. He didn't know why he imagined it was possible for him to share. And it hurt terribly that Alen didn't feel the same way.

The prince lifted his head, brown hands gripping Alen's firm buttocks, and watched Deon with cool calculation. One of the men murmured to the other and they both laughed. The prince smiled slightly, but his eyes remained on Deon.

"You don't like me touching him?" He said and deliberately stroked Alen's cock.

His brother sighed sweetly and moved his hips. But Deon saw the tension in his slender shoulders and knew Alen was concerned for him.

Deon let his eyes drop to the intricate black patterns on the stone floor and breathed deeply through his nose.

_One. Two. Three..._

"Look at me." The prince commanded.

Deon didn't. He couldn't.

_Four. Five. Six..._

He heard a shift of movement and felt the warmth of a body close to him.

"Seyin, are you afraid or are you proud?" Jeweled fingers cupped his chin and it took all of Deon's self-control not to bite them off. His face was lifted and he glared up at the prince.

He was around a decade older than Deon. No more than twenty-six. His cheekbones and jaw were sharp, but his mouth was soft and full. Ice grey eyes examined Deon intently and the prince's lip quirked. "It is both, I think."

The hand on his chin stroked his cheek and Deon knocked it away. He heard Alen's sharp inhale, but he didn't care. His muscles trembled with the need to fight. To hurt.

The prince looked astonished for an instant and then his expression hardened. The men laughed again and one of them spoke in Telenien, for Deon's benefit no doubt.

"He needs to be tamed!"

The prince barked out a command and guards gripped Deon's arms and dragged him to the center of the room. There was a whistle of sound through the air and a whip burned across his back.

The pain knocked the air from his lungs and Deon gasped. It hurt. God, it hurt. Much worse than his father's belt.

The whip struck again. And again.

Deon counted five lashes before he whimpered. Each strike felt like a brand and his body shook.

By ten lashes he was sagging in the guards hands and he started to sob. By the fifteenth he was screaming and then it ended.

His head was hanging low and his breaths were ragged. His skin was wet with sweat and his back felt like it was lit on fire.

Slender brown feet moved into his line of sight and a cool hand cupped his cheek.

"Calm now?" The prince murmured and smoothed back the damp stands from Deon's face. He felt empty and strangely euphoric. As if all the rage and frustration had burned out.

The prince leaned in and kissed Deon's slack mouth. A gentle pressure of lips and a warm slide of tongue. It felt almost...tender.

The man released him and Deon was lifted. His back flared with agony and he didn't remember the guards moving him to a shadowed room or placing him on a bed.

He woke to sheets smelling like mint and panted through the pain. A woman spoke softly above him and a cloth ran like knives over his spine. He fainted.

......

Some time later, a wad of moistened fabric pressed to his lips and he drank water. Small pinches of meat and vegetables followed next. Deon chewed, with his eyes closed, and thought of a similar time; when their roles were reversed.

"De?" Alen whispered and stroked Deon's arm - fingertips trailing lightly down to his wrist and back up to his shoulder.

Deon remained silent, but his eyes opened and he stared at the white curtain veiling the bed. He was angry again.

Angry at his brother for being so selfish. Angry at the prince for humiliating him. And he was afraid, because he was powerless to do anything about it.

A gentle hand ran over his hair and soft kisses warmed his neck. "I love you." Alen whispered.

Deon took a slow breath for patience. Alen laced their fingers and his kisses moved to Deon's cheek.

"I want to leave." Deon breathed and Alen's lips stilled. The grip on his fingers tightened.

"De..."

"You could come with me." Deon continued quietly. "I would work to keep us fed. It wouldn't be much, but...we would have each other."

Alen was quiet for a long moment and then he stroked Deon's hair again, fingers gliding slowly through the dark strands.

"We can't leave, De. He owns us. And I want to be able to show how I feel about you." Alen murmured and feathered his lips across Deon's temple.

"You just want to fuck him." Deon said bitterly and Alen stiffened. His touch ripped away and Deon felt cold.

"At least I'm true to myself! I don't hide behind violence." Alen hissed viciously and stormed out.

Deon swallowed tightly and tears ran down his cheeks. He willed the anger to return - to protect him - but it was gone.


	5. Submission

Deon was lost in a feverish haze. He didn't know how many days had passed. One moment, he'd wake up soaked in sweat, hair plastered to his cheeks and breaths ragged - and the next he was freezing, teeth clattering in his skull.

He began to hallucinate. He saw Alen at six years old - tiny and huddling beside him, because there was a thunderstorm outside. And then his brother was older, skin luminous and dark eyes languid, telling Deon he didn't need him anymore.

"Seyin. Shhh. Hush now." His mother said, and held him tenderly against her breast. Her smell was different - medicinal and earthy - but she stroked his hair and crooned softly, until his sobs quieted and he slept.

......

Deon woke when his bandages were changed and stared numbly at the oil lamps flickering behind the bed's sheer curtains. He'd never felt so drained. So empty.

The healer pressed a wet cloth to his lips and sponged his skin.

"He has visited each hour." She spoke in slow and stilted Telenien.

Deon turned his heavy head and looked up blearily. "Who has?"

"Your brother." Her dark hair was streaked with silver and, unlike the rest of the servants, her chest was covered - and strange patterns decorated her face and arms. "He sits outside for a long time."

Her appearance was disconcerting, but her milky gaze was warm and Deon's eyes blurred with tears.

He thanked her and she smiled, revealing several gold teeth, and gathered her supplies. The door shut behind her quietly and Deon slept easier after that.

......

The next day he was able to sit up and drink a cup of bitter tea. He ate a few slices of fruit and a bowl of salty rice porridge.

Once he'd finished, a servant girl took the tray and encouraged him to lie back down. When she'd left, he waited a moment before pushing back the covers.

He stood on wobbly legs and leaned against the bedpost. His skin grew damp with exertion and he probably needed more bedrest - but he'd never liked staying indoors and the walls felt cramped.

He staggered to the door and peered out. Two guards conversed quietly at the end of the hall and light music drifted from another floor. The men spotted him and lapsed into silence.

A door carved with leaves opened and a bright head appeared. Deon had only seen Roi at the market back home. And, sometimes, he'd watched the light shine on the back of his curls during long sermons in the prayer house.

"Roi!" He called.

The blonde turned, blue eyes cooly blank. He stared hard a moment and then his expression smoothed with surprise. "Deon?"

"Do you have any...clothes?" The floor swayed and Deon had to grip the doorframe and close his eyes.

"No," Roi's bare feet patted over the stone, "we don't wear any."

Deon knew that. He'd known the answer before he asked, but he was recovering and being naked felt vulnerable.

He peered through his lashes at Roi's slim form. Delicate gold chains circled his narrow waist and thighs - and a pale green gem shone above his naval. They were around the same age, but the boy's soft features and rosy cheeks made him appear younger.

Deon forced himself to step out the door, bracing a trembling hand against the marble wall. He walked slowly, palm running over gilded runes, and Roi fell into step beside him.

"Are you hungry?" The blonde asked carefully.

"No. I'm going outside." Deon muttered.

He stumbled and in a flash Roi had pressed beneath his arm, taking some his weight. Deon accepted the help in tight-lipped silence.

The guards didn't make a move to stop them, but one followed them down the stairs.

They passed the pools that seemed to have a constant run of activity. A servant noticed them and exchanged a few words with the guard.

The boys moved out a large set of double-doors and the heat struck like a physical wall. Deon had to stop and take a steadying breath that tasted like humidity and vegetation.

"We'll sit here." Roi murmured and led him to a bench beneath a shelter of flowering branches. The guard stood by the trees. Silent and watchful.

Deon laid gratefully on his side and closed his eyes. The bench was padded with cushions and the heat was bearable in the shade.

He breathed steadily and felt Roi perch beside him. A gentle presence that Deon didn't mind.

He'd never have tolerated it back home. Never have initiated a friendship. But he was healing in foreign surroundings and, even if they didn't know each other, Roi was familiar and that was a small comfort.

......

"Lin. Seyin."

Deon startled awake and quickly shut his eyes against the light. His heart was abruptly pounding and he wished for his bed. But this was the prince's palace and Deon couldn't hide forever.

"Look at me!"

Deon's neck was stiff with dread, but he managed to turn his head. The prince smiled with satisfaction and settled back against the luxurious fabrics and pillows the servants arranged around him and the boys he'd chosen that day.

Alen lounged in the arms of a gold skinned boy with sleek bronze hair. His dark eyes flit between his brother and Roi. To anyone else he appeared comfortable, but Deon recognized the uneasy set to his jaw.

"I'm weary." The prince ran a jeweled hand across his eyes. "I attended council all morning. Come here."

Deon's chest tightened. But he didn't want to be whipped again. He wasn't even sure he'd survive it. He sat up and started when Roi braced him.

Alen's eyes narrowed and Deon felt a moment of petty satisfaction. Finally, his brother might understand a fraction of his jealousy.

"Come here." The prince ordered.

They stood and Deon forgot everything as the world tilted. In the next instant he was lying on the blankets, panting while a hand stroked his cheek.

"Poor Seyin. This weather is not what you're used to." The prince smiled down at him kindly, as if he hadn't caused Deon's suffering in the first place.

Sweat ran into his eyes and his body trembled with the effort it took to stay present. The man's pale eyes turned knowing and amused. "Lin. He is thirsty. Give him a drink."

Roi reached for a gold cup and sipped delicately. The blonde leaned down and, before Deon's cloudy mind caught up, cool lips were pushing against his mouth and sweet fruit water ran over his cheeks. He choked, swallowing some, and Roi lifted.

The boy's periwinkle eyes turned expectantly to the prince, rosy lips parted.

"Again." The prince said and Roi took another sip. He lowered and Deon tried to turn away, but the prince's fingers tangled in his hair and held him still.

"Drink, Seyin."

Deon steeled himself and Roi's soft lips pressed against him. Slowly, water trickled into his mouth and he swallowed.

Roi patiently passed him the entire contents of the cup, until Deon's neck and hair was damp with water. But his head felt a little clearer.

"Seya." The prince murmured and held his hand out to Alen.

Deon's eyes widened when he saw the erection protruding from the slit in the prince's white kilt. The brown shaft was thick and veined, tip pale pink and already wet with anticipation.

Alen slid from the golden boy's arms and lowered between the prince's legs. His dark hair fell against his pale cheeks, and his eyes briefly met Deon's, before he took the cock into his mouth.

Deon flinched and his hands fisted. He wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. But he couldn't even sit up.

"Gently now." The prince said quietly, face relaxed with pleasure, but his fingers were still hard in Deon's hair. "Lin. Calm him."

Roi moved down and Deon was distracted when a warm tongue brushed over his dick. He jerked and pain blazed through his spine.

"Gently." The prince repeated.

Roi's hands slid up Deon's thighs and he scrunched his eyes in humiliation. He could hear Alen making soft swallowing sounds and the combination, with Roi's kitten licks, made him hard.

Roi's mouth closed over his tip and suckled. Deon gasped and shuddered. He'd never felt a mouth on him before and nothing could prepare him for the wet heat and firm pressure.

Roi's hands kept petting him. Fingertips running lightly over his inner thighs and caressing his balls. The pleasure built and he was helpless to fight it.

The prince murmured encouragements and Deon wanted to snarl at him to shut up. But his voice was trapped in harsh pants.

He came with a choked sound and spilled into Roi's throat.

"Kiss him." The prince said and then Roi's flat chest was pressing against his front and their lips touched again.

A tongue ran over his lip, and slid sinuously into his mouth, and Deon received another shock at the sharp taste of himself.

He barely noticed when the hand in his hair gentled and began stroking. His heart was hammering out of control and he returned the kiss, hand closing spasmodically on Roi's back.

The prince called a halt and Roi lifted his head, breaths heavy and pupils dilated with arousal. The boy's hands were on Deon's hips, and a sticky cock was nudging his thigh.

The prince leaned down and kissed him. Deon stiffened, lips rigid and the fingers in his hair immediately fisted.

He gasped with pain and the man's tongue delved inside. Dominant and assertive.

Deon was starting to shiver and sickness pounded through his head. The prince eventually lifted and considered him through dark lashes.

"If I wanted a soldier," The man murmured, stroking Deon's hair again, "I'd bed one."

Deon read the warning in those cold eyes and shut his own in defeat. The prince spoke in Peraan and shadows fell over him and guards lifted him from the blankets.

......

The healer fussed around him, face tight with disapproval, while she muttered in her own tongue.

She straightened his fresh sheets and slapped a cold cloth over his eyes. Deon was reminded of his own mother, when he'd misbehaved, and the similarity was reassuring.

That night he jerked awake when the sheets ripped from his skin and Alen climbed on top of him.

"Wake up." Alen hissed and mouthed Deon's throat, sucking firmly.

"Len..." Deon's cock was instantly hard and he hugged his twin close, feeling so relieved that he'd finally come back.

"Did he visit you at night?" Teeth scraped over his pulse and Alen pressed down, pushing Deon's spine into the mattress.

"Ah! That hurts!" Deon flinched away.

"I thought you'd like that." Alen mocked and squeezed Deon's cock punishingly hard.

He gasped and rolled. His head swam with dizziness, but he managed to secure Alen's wrists, and panted against his brother's shoulder.

"I don't...feel well, Len." He admitted, voice almost breaking.

Alen instantly softened beneath him and trembled. "I'm sorry, De."

Deon relaxed and carefully maneuvered onto his side. Their legs tangled and Alen's head tucked beneath his chin. He stroked his brother's slender spine, while Alen sniffled and clutched him tight.

"I missed you." He breathed into silky hair.

Alen's breath gushed out and he nuzzled Deon's skin.

"Missed you..." Alen whispered and tenderly kissed the bruises he'd made on Deon's throat, "love you. I'll always love you the most."

Deon's heart squeezed painfully. He didn't love his brother 'the most'. He didn't love anyone except Alen. But if he voiced that out loud they might fight again.

"...De?" Alen looked up and the pale glow from the window illuminated the tears in his eyes.

"Love you." He replied and Alen's smile shone like starlight.


	6. Defeat

The next morning Deon woke to a clink of metal and swishes of fabric. Servants were placing bowls of meat, eggs, fruits and round loafs of bread on a blue stone table that hadn't been there the day before. Their chests were bare and they wore long gossamer skirts with gold bands adorning their arms and necks.

Alen's breaths were warm against his shoulder and his leg was thrown over Deon's hip.

A small girl placed a vase of white flowers on the nightstand. She couldn't have been more than ten years old and her wavy hair was tucked behind her ears. Her light eyes peaked up at him and widened in alarm when she saw him watching her.

Deon flushed. The sheet had slipped to his calves and that wasn't anything a girl should see. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she was already scuttling out on the heels of the older women.

"That smells good." Alen murmured and kissed Deon's skin, hand sliding up his chest. Deon's cock stirred and he turned towards his brother.

"He finally rewarded you." Alen breathed in his ear and that put a damper on Deon's mood real quick.

"It's a reward?" He sat up and put his warm feet on the cool stone floor. He felt stronger than he had in days, but when he stood his legs still felt rubbery.

"Yes," Alen stretched languidly, curving his spine and running his fingers through his raven hair, "if he likes you, he sends gifts."

Deon glared at the table, but took a hot loaf from a gold bowl. He wouldn't waste food. He knew exactly how much work went into producing it. Caring for the crops and harvesting them, before they even reached the kitchen.

Sunlight dabbled through ivory curtains with gold patterns and those were new too. There were no chairs and the twins sat on the bed.

Alen dipped a spoon into a red dish that smelled spicy and warm and held it to Deon's lips. "It's good, right?"

Deon frowned but chewed. The food was delicious, but he didn't want to be coaxed. Like a dog obeying the hand that fed him.

"Humans aren't meant to be kept, Len." He muttered and drank a cup of cool fruit water.

"The Peraan aren't like us, De. They live differently. Wouldn't you like to eat like this everyday?" Alen tilted his head and smiled invitingly. His red mouth was fuller from spices and his fingers trailed up Deon's knee.

A servant chose that moment to knock and Deon was almost thankful for the interruption, because biting back the words he wanted to say was starting to make his jaw ache.

They were escorted to the baths and servants scrubbed Deon's skin carefully around his bandages and washed and combed his hair.

A guard followed them up the stairs and into a luxurious room. Silken rugs softened the stone floor and a square balcony showed the ocean in the distance - but Deon's eyes were drawn to a gilded bed, large enough to fit a dozen people.

Two boys were lying on the rumpled sheets. One of them was Roi and his bright head rested on the shoulder of the amber haired youth Deon recognized from the previous day.

Roi sat up and smiled tentatively at Deon. His blonde curls were disheveled and there were red marks on his small wrists and ankles.

Deon felt a kiss on his jaw and his attention returned to his brother. His heart was already beating too fast and his legs trembled from walking up the stairs.

"Come on." Alen whispered and led him to a lounge covered in gold embroidered pillows.

Alen stroked Deon's hair and it was tempting to turn his head into his brother's chest. To hide. But he didn't want to look anymore vulnerable in front of the other boys than he already did.

The amber haired one, especially, was watching him with a mocking smile. His face was sharp and elfin, and there was a self-assured insolence to his body language that made Deon dislike him instantly.

Alen caught on to his brother's fears and his caresses became more subtle, hand dropping to rest on Deon's hip in silent comfort.

The door opened and the prince stepped in, dropping his kilt carelessly on the floor. Several guards followed and stood silent against the wall.

"Seyin." The prince gestured to Deon and sprawled on the bed, bending one leg to show his cock heavy between his legs.

"Go." Alen whispered and pushed Deon up urgently.

He stood shakily and stared at the grown man watching him with lazy satisfaction. Like a cat who caught a mouse. His black hair was damp and curling against his sharp jaw - and his dark skin gleamed against the pale sheets.

"Don't be shy." The man held out a hand that shone with jewels and Deon wanted to spit on it. But after everything he'd endured, he forced himself to take a step. Then another. And another. Until he could brace a hand against the edge of the rune engraved bed and sit. Ignoring the prince's outstretched hand.

The weakness in his muscles transferred from his legs to his spine, but he kept his back straight and stared hard at the floor.

"Still stubborn?" The prince spoke in his ear and Deon felt the man's warmth behind him. A large hand touched his spine and fingers dug into his wounds. Deon grit his teeth against the pain, but didn't move away. "I'm not usually this patient. My boys will think I've gone soft."

A hand gripped Deon's chin and turned his head. He screwed his eyes shut and felt the man's mouth on him. The kiss was hard and demanding and a tongue invaded his mouth, tasting of honey and wine.

The prince released him and tugged him down. He felt one of the boy's brush against him and caught a flash of bright green eyes, before the prince pulled Deon closer. His heart was abruptly racing and he struggled.

"Enough of this!" The prince bore down on him, smothering the boy with his size.

Deon's back crushed into the mattress and he gasped with pain. Every inch of the man's body pressed against him and Deon could smell the fragrant oils on his skin, feel the muscle that was gained through strict training and not real labour.

The hands on him were strong, but smooth and manicured. The prince had never worked for anything in his life. He was born into riches. He'd never gone hungry. Never toiled until his bones ached. And all he did was take. Deon's brother. His freedom. His body. His pride. And Deon hated him. Hated him.

"Get off me!" Deon shouted and thrashed as hard as he could. He heard gasps beside him and then hands were around his neck. Squeezing.

Deon's air cut off and he struggled harder. A knee forced his legs apart and then a hard rod pressed between his buttocks and tore into him. The assault left him stunned and his vision went dark. In the next instant he could breathe and a voice spoke in his ear. Breathless and mocking. "Calm yet?"

Deon coughed and wheezed for air. The cock in his ass felt like it was searing hot, burning into skin with each thrust, and he scratched the body on top of him mindlessly.

The hands returned to his throat and strangled him into stillness. In the distance he thought he heard Alen shout, but then the pain drowned everything out.

A hard slap against his face brought him back and he gasped, blinking away black dots, as the body against him lifted. The cock in him pulled free and it felt like a knife unsheathing.

He released a choked sob and a hand stroked his bruised throat. "Last chance, Seyin."

Deon had no strength left and he couldn't meet that cold stare. Instead his blurred eyes fixed on Alen's tear drenched face across the room. His brother was on his knees and his slender arms were gripped by two guards.

Another guard approached the bed and lifted Deon, large arms cradling his body effortlessly. The motion sent another wave of pain through him and, just before the door shut, he heard the prince speak a command and the unmistakable slither of a whip unfurling.

....

The healer tended to him, as she had the previous nights. His skin was sponged, re-bandaged and oil was rubbed gently between his raw buttocks. She fed him tea and a thin porridge that burned his sore throat and sent him into an exhausted sleep.

That night when his mattress shifted he thought it was Alen, but when he turned his head the moonlight caught the glow of ice grey eyes. Deon's insides constricted with fear and his body started shaking. He could feel the tremor, all the way to his fingertips.

The prince smiled knowingly, full mouth curling in the dark, and unclasped the collar around his neck.

"I don't enjoy pain." The young man spoke quietly and dropped the collar onto the nightstand with a heavy clunk of metal. "I like my boys warm and willing. But if you challenge me," He unfurled the dressing around his hips and let it fall to the floor in a whisper of fabric, "I have to discipline you."

He reached out with confident ease, pulling the sheet down to expose Deon completely, and the boy couldn't control his whimper. At least no one was around to hear it.

"Shhh." The prince soothed and pulled Deon into his arms. Deon trembled and shuddered with tears and shame. The man's body repulsed him, smooth and hard and so much stronger.

"Shhh. Gently now." A kiss brushed his temple and a jeweled hand smoothed back his hair and ran down his nape.

When Deon turned his face away, the prince followed and kissed him. And it wasn't a cruel, dominating kiss. It was warm and skilled. A hand touched his cock, working him gently, until his balls tingled and his breathing hitched.

"That's it. Let go." The prince murmured and circled his thumb over Deon's wet tip.

The pleasure, after so much pain, was irresistible and Deon came with a watery gasp. The prince held him again, kissing his sore lips tenderly and whispering sweetness into his ear.

After a long while Deon stopped shaking and the prince touched him again - using hands and mouth to bring him to release expertly and kissing away his tears.

He wasn't sure how much time had gone - or when he stopped resisting and started clinging to those broad shoulders - but something inside him had broken.

A/N: If you like my stories, and want to support me, I now have a ko-fi account 🖤

https://ko-fi.com/naturalin


	7. Comfort

Deon woke to the foreign feel of a hard arm around his waist and hot breaths in his hair. The previous day came rushing back on a wave of fear so strong it made his heart clench and his head spin.

He'd been shocked. Terrified. And he'd sought refuge in the arms of the person who hurt him.

Sickened, he tried to shift away and agony blazed between his legs. He gasped and the arm around him tightened.

"Seyin." The prince murmured and Deon turned to him instinctively, dread squeezing his chest. "Is it morning already?"

Ice grey eyes peered down at him through dark lashes and a ringed hand stroked down his side.

There was a flurry of muffled voices in the corridor and the door burst open. A servant girl stared at them with panicked eyes for a moment and then her shoulders sagged. She shouted down the hall and turned back to the prince, bowing her head low.

The prince watched her with lazy amusement and several guards rushed into the room, looking immensely relieved when they spotted the prince. The young man spoke in Peraan and the girl touched her fingers to her mouth and left.

"They've been looking for me." The prince explained and stroked Deon's nape idly. "I usually have my shadows." He tipped his head towards the guards that had assembled against the wall. "But sometimes, I want privacy."

He smiled fondly down at Deon and the boy just stared up at him. His throat burned when he swallowed and his body ached. He knew it was an illusion. He knew the prince's kindness could turn to violence in an instant. And that wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.

"Sweet Seyin," The prince murmured and caressed his cheek, "I can see the noise in your head. You think too much."

The man lowered his head and Deon flinched back. A painful grip in his hair forced him right back around and the prince's eyes were now hard and slitted.

"I told you, this was your last chance. Twins are rare. But I could have more at the snap of a finger." The man hissed.

Deon's mouth pressed tight, even as his eyes brimmed with tears. But he wouldn't cry again. He wouldn't.

"What about your brother?" The prince said.

Deon's eyes went wide and the treacherous tears fell. The prince smiled viciously. "Do you care about his life? Should I punish him instead?"

"No!" Deon hadn't meant to raise his voice and the sound stung his throat. Alen had always cried at the smallest cut or scrape. He would never be able to endure something like this.

"No?" The prince's eyes flashed with triumph. He released Deon's hair and lay back against the mattress, folding his arms behind his head. "Then kiss me."

Deon's hands fisted in the sheets and a familiar anger warmed inside him. It wasn't explosive, like it usually was. It was barely a simmer. But it was there.

He took a painful breath and sat up. He'd kissed the man for hours last night. But this was different. His head was clear and he had to initiate it himself. As if he wanted it.

His lips trembled, but he lowered his head and touched them lightly to the prince's full mouth. A hand settled on his nape and tugged him down until Deon was pressed against the man's chest.

"Do more." The prince breathed against his lips.

Deon squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. He tried to picture Alen. His brother's soft skin and velvety lips. But the taste in his mouth was different, sharper, and the body against him was so much larger.

A palm smoothed over his hip and ran over his thigh. It was a familiar motion by now and Deon felt his cock lift. He knew that warm hand could bring him in moments and his hips tilted unerringly towards it. The hand moved away and Deon frowned, kissing the man harder.

A huff of laughter separated them and the prince brushed back a lock of Deon's hair. "I would love to play with you, Seyin. But I have guests arriving soon."

Deon blinked in shock. It was a rejection. But the prince had just told him to do it. Did he do something wrong? Half closed eyes stared up at him with cool satisfaction.

"In fact," the prince quirked a dark brow at one of the guard's in silent question. The stone-faced man nodded once.

"They've already arrived." The prince finished and shoved Deon carelessly off his chest. Pain flared when the boy fell against the mattress, but his cock was still stupidly hard.

The prince was thankfully in a similar state when he stood and he hissed when he put on his kilt.

"Bring Jesa." He ordered a guard and walked out without a backward glance at Deon. The men followed and the door shut.

The silence in the room was deafening and for several moments Deon just stared at the door blankly and then his eyes filled.

He squeezed them shut and took several deep breaths. Shame and helplessness sank cold in his gut. He'd just been manipulated and ridiculed. In front of several guards.

He didn't need attention from a prince, he tried to remind himself. He didn't want it. He only wanted Alen and where was he?

...

The healer and a group of servants eventually arrived. The old woman examined his throat, and between his legs, and fed him a cold soup that tasted fresh and citrusy, followed by a warm cup of herb tea.

The servants waited patiently until he'd finished and then they sponged his bruised skin and rubbed it gently with oil. When he had first arrived Deon hated their ministrations, but now it was almost soothing.

They brushed his hair until it lay smooth against his spine and a young woman fit a wide gold bracelet onto his upper arm with a blood red stone in the center.

Deon stared down at it silently. None of the Telenien men he knew back home would have been caught dead wearing it and it probably cost more than their farm earned in a year.

The women led him into the corridor. Each step brought on little flames of pain, but thankfully he didn't have to walk far before they showed him through a familiar door carved with leaves.

The room was full of light. Moon shaped lanterns shone on the ceiling and sunlight streamed through translucent curtains woven with sparkling little gems. Roi sat in the center of his bed, with a jade tray in his lap, nibbling on a pastry.

He looked up at Deon and nearly dropped his dessert.

"A gift." One of the women announced in Telenien and one by one they filed out, leaving a guard by the door.

Roi pushed away the tray and scrambled out of bed. "Deon!" He ran his hands self-consciously through his mussed curls. "Are you alright?"

The boy's periwinkle eyes were wide with concern, lingering on Deon's throat and the bracelet on his arm.

"Fine." Deon said, even though he clearly wasn't. Little tremors were starting to run through his arms and legs - and he wanted to cover up his battered body. He wanted to run, but he also didn't want to be alone and it was a frightening mix of sensation.

"...Good." Roi seemed just as lost, hands fluttering back up to his fair hair and then fiddling with a jewel at his wrist. "Do you want to sit down?"

Comfort won over pride and Deon moved determinedly past Roi and aimed for a woven green chair by the table.

"We can sit on the bed." Roi said and then flushed when Deon looked at him. His skin was so fair the blush spread to his ears and chest. "Uh, it's more comfortable." He glanced uneasily at Deon's bruised thighs.

Deon's jaw tightened and he sat gingerly on the bed. He knew Roi was showing him kindness, not pity. But it was difficult not to snarl at the smaller boy.

Roi was beside him a little quicker than he expected. "Are you hungry? There's food on the table or these sweet pastries." He pointed to the tray. "They're my favorite."

Deon shook his head and leaned back against the bed. Lying down was such a relief to his sore limbs. Roi's sheets were much softer than his own and they smelled floral.

"What am I doing here, Roi?" He mumbled, eyes closing.

He felt Roi lie down next to him, but the boy didn't touch him. Usually, Deon would have preferred it that way, but now he wanted contact desperately and he wasn't ready to examine why.

"...He knows I like you." It was barely a whisper by his ear and a silent question hung in the air.

Deon opened his heavy eyes a sliver and stared at a pillow beaded with yellow crystals. A few days ago he wouldn't have doubted his answer. But Alen wasn't here and Deon knew his brother had other lovers.

When he remained silent, careful fingertips trailed down his arm. Another question.

"I was glad to see you." Roi said softly. "I didn't think you noticed me back home. You always kept to yourself. But you remembered my name."

Deon felt the boy lean closer and then a featherlight kiss brushed his shoulder. He swallowed tightly past the pain in his throat. There was a deeper meaning to Roi's words and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Can I hug you?" Roi asked and Deon felt tears run down his cheeks.

He nodded his head a fraction and then Roi was climbing over the bed to face him and pressing into his arms. The boy's weight was slight and warm. His skin felt silken where they touched and his arms folded around Deon gently.

Deon shuddered with silent sobs and his cheek pillowed against soft curls.


	8. Obedience

Deon cried until his lungs hurt and his eyes felt sore. Roi just held him in silence, fingertips drawing soft circles on his shoulder.

When Deon's tears dried out, and his body felt light and empty, he stared vacantly at the wall - watching bright specks of sunshine catch the sheen of gold swirls.

Roi's room was so tranquil, like one of those magical places Deon's mother had described to him in stories when he was little. A cushioned haven of luxury and light.

But the ache between Deon's thighs was a different story. The burn in his throat and the scabs on his spine didn't belong in any fairytale.

His cheek was pressed to Roi's curls, now damp from his tears, and he could smell the sweet oils on the boy's skin. Feel the warmth of his small body and the moist brush of lips on his jaw.

Back home he would never have imagined being with Roi like this. Being with anyone like this. He didn't even have those thoughts about Alen, not consciously anyway, until Gell had kissed him on the ship.

What he and Alen had was deeper than that. He thought about his brother when he woke up in the morning and before he slept at night. He wanted to be with him every moment of the day. They didn't even have to talk or do anything in particular. Just being in Alen's company was enough.

But when they had finally touched it was like two parts of a whole aligned. At least, it had felt that way to Deon.

He took a trembling breath against the ache in his chest and focused on the kisses moving to his ear, on the warm lick of a tongue, and then a gentle suckle on his earlobe. It felt nice.

Roi shifted and his palm smoothed up Deon's thigh and ran over his cock, fingertips stroking lightly, until it stirred and lifted.

"You're so beautiful." Roi breathed and Deon could feel the quick thump of the boy's heart against his chest.

This was the second time Deon had been called beautiful by another boy. But given the circumstances, he didn't mind as much as the first time.

But if Roi wanted him for his looks, then why not choose Alen? Alen loved people and he'd been the one to draw them in with a dazzling smile, when they'd sold their vegetables at the market. Even their father had grudgingly acknowledged Alen's value back then.

Deon, on the other hand, had been assigned to pack the goods and haul potatoes to the grocer, because he was more likely to scare customers away.

"You are." Roi insisted, mistaking Deon's frown and kissed him.

Roi's lips were buttery soft and his warm little tongue slid into Deon's mouth.

He remembered how skilled Roi's mouth was on other parts of him and he wanted to feel that again. He wanted to drown in pleasure and forget the pain.

He ran his hands over Roi's delicate shoulders and pushed lightly. He caught a quick flash of surprised blue eyes, before Roi's pink little mouth curved and he climbed down eagerly, taking Deon's cock confidently in his hand and putting his mouth on it.

Deon groaned and slid his fingers through Roi's soft curls. The boy's tongue was wet and skilled as it ran over his shaft, until Deon's stomach muscles contracted and his breaths quickened.

Roi took his time, suckling tenderly on the sensitive tip as his fingers tightened on the base of the shaft and pulled up slow.

Deon lifted his hands to grip the sheets and panted. It felt so good. So incredibly good.

Roi suddenly moved all the way down, enclosing Deon in the tight heat of his throat, until his cock throbbed and his toes curled.

Roi lifted, sucking hard, and dived back down. Over and over until Deon thought he might pass out from the pleasure of it.

"Hng!" He came hard, muscles trembling and sweat running down his chest.

He felt the cool touch of air on his shaft as Roi lifted, heard the boy cough, and then Roi was pressing back against him and kissing him. Mouth tasting of fresh cum and spit.

Deon welcomed it all, clutching Roi's silky skin and allowing the boy to hump against him.

"Oh please. Please." Roi whispered, hot little prick sliding against Deon's belly. It was only fair that Deon gave him a hand and he reached down to grip the boy's twitching shaft. Four firm tugs was all it took and then a sticky stream flowed over his fingers.

Roi moaned and suckled on Deon's tongue in his mouth. The boy didn't demand anything; only offered or asked. It was reassuring, as if Deon still had an ounce of power left.

The boys spent the rest of the day, and the night, together and when Deon woke trembling from nightmares, he was grateful for the unthreatening arms around him.

.....

The next morning the servants woke them without breakfast and led them to the pools. Deon's injuries felt worse than the previous day and a guard had to carry him down the stairs.

He slapped the man's arm, but it was like pushing stone. He hated the stares he felt on him; witnessing his weakness and emasculation.

The guard lowered him into warm water and the pain between his legs flared hot. He gripped the edge of the pool and grit his teeth.

A pair of slender feet stopped in front of him and drops of water dripped onto his head.

"Still sore?" A voice said loudly and Deon looked up.

The amber haired boy smirked down at him. His golden skin was perfectly clear, without the freckles Deon was accustomed to seeing on redhead's back home.

His body was lean and willowy, with the long lines of someone who was probably fast on their feet. Emeralds, as bright as his eyes, shone on either side of his small nipples and a gem embellished ring encircled his cock. He looked ridiculous.

Deon narrowed his eyes and breathed hard through his nose. He wasn't in any state to fight, but he sure wanted to. He wanted to punch the arrogance right off the boy's face.

The boy cocked a bronze brow and his smirk deepened.

"Don't tease him, Jessa." Roi splashed into the water beside Deon and put a protective hand on his shoulder.

Deon flushed and jerked away. Pain flared in his back and forced a grunt from his mouth, but he didn't need a rescuer. He could defend himself. Roi hastily backed away.

Jessa snorted and sank into a crouch. Servants dropped their skirts and stepped into the water to remove the soaked bandages on Deon's spine.

The water allowed the cloth to pull easier from his skin, but the tug on old scabs still made him swallow tightly.

"Four weeks until it stops." Jessa drawled and Deon looked up in surprise. The boy had a strange accent that wasn't Peraan, but Deon wasn't educated enough to guess where it was from.

Jessa was watching the women lazily through his lashes, one hand resting between his knees and the other splayed on the marble stone. "I would know."

"What stops?" Deon said and he resented how choked his sounded.

"The pain. You should do what he says." Jessa's eyes returned to him and he reached out casually to run his knuckles over Deon's cheek. "Like a good boy."

The gesture and the tone was so eerily reminiscent of the prince, that Deon felt a cold rush of fear and he lurched back.

A servant exclaimed angrily and whacked his arm to keep him still. Jessa's laugh was harsh and mocking as the boy stood and sauntered away.

When Deon's body was clean and oiled he was led down a hall beside Roi. The smaller boy kept his eyes on the floor, lips pressed tight, and Deon felt a sting of guilt.

Roi had comforted him all night and Alen had once told him that sometimes he came off mean, even when he didn't intend to be.

"I'm sorry." He murmured.

Roi's blue eyes flashed towards him for an instant, before settling back on the floor. Deon was at a loss. He hadn't had any friends, or lovers, aside from his brother. What was he supposed to do?

He was distracted by the sounds of voices and light music. They stepped into a hall that was open to a sparkling pond outside and the air was thick with the scent of flowers. The floors were covered in soft blue tiles and iridescent curtains rippled in a light breeze.

There were five men and six women seated by a white stone table decked with a feast. Their clothes and jewels marked them as royalty and pretty boys and girls sat at their feet.

Guards stood by the walls, swords gleaming at their hips, and four servants entertained a group of children playing on woven blankets.

One of the women turned in her chair and presented a sweetmeat to a boy on the floor. He bit into it delicately and kissed her jeweled hand.

The prince sat beside a young woman with waist length hair and Deon's blood ran cold when their eyes met. The man's black waves were pulled back by a gold clip and it made his features appear sharper. Almost predatory.

But a small part of Deon felt a pull. It wasn't anything like love or affection. It was something else. Something dark and dangerous and it frightened him.

Roi straightened beside him like an eager puppy and it only took the barest gesture from the prince to send him running. Roi stopped a foot away from the man's chair and sat on the floor, bright head eclipsed by the stone table.

Deon was being observed by the other royals now. The young woman spoke and her tone was amused. The prince laughed and answered, gesturing to Deon.

He wasn't stupid enough to defy this room and he moved stiffly to the prince's side. But if the man wanted Deon to move faster, he shouldn't have made it so difficult for him to walk.

He was surprised to see Jessa sitting beside Roi, along with the dark haired boy the prince also seemed to favor. But Alen was nowhere to be seen.

Deon waited for a signal, but the prince never looked at him, instead he conversed with the woman and drank from his cup.

A harsh tug on his arm had Deon stumbling to the floor.

"Fool." Jessa hissed in his ear and pinched his bruised thigh viciously. Deon bit back a yelp of pain and shoved the boy as hard as he could.

If Deon had been as fit as he normally was, Jessa would probably have fallen. But he wasn't and Deon ended up flat on his back, head slamming into the tiles, with Jessa on top of him.

"Ravat!" The prince bellowed and snapped his fingers.

Jessa froze and this close Deon could see the raw fear in the boy's bright green eyes. In the next instant Jessa's mouth crushed down on his in a violent kiss. Their teeth clacked and Deon tasted blood.

Laughter erupted as they tousled and a brutal grip on Deon's prick had him wailing into Jessa's mouth. There was no pleasure, only pain, but it might not appear that way to an audience.

The prince spoke again and Jessa lifted his head quickly. His sharp cheekbones were flushed and his dark pink mouth was stained with blood. He licked his lips and peaked up at the prince coyly through amber lashes.

"Not willing to wait, my fox?" The prince smiled and extended his hand. Jessa lifted smoothly off Deon to nuzzle it and sucked a finger into his mouth.

The prince spoke softly in a language that was neither Telenien nor Peraan. It was something rapid and melodic and Jessa murmured a reply in the same tongue.

Deon sat up slowly and painfully. He kept his eyes downcast and focused on his breathing. In through his nose and out through his mouth. His skull pounded and his brow felt damp.

"Seyin." The prince spoke and Deon exhaled shakily. He wouldn't be steady on his feet now and he crawled to the prince's chair. If his mind had been clearer, he would have felt ashamed.

A light touch on his hair guided his head to rest against the prince's thigh. He was uncomfortably close to the man's groin, but it was thankfully covered by the kilt.

A cup pressed gently against his mouth and he drank deeply of a cool minty water. Strips of spicy meat came next and a slice of fruit.

"Do you like it?" The prince asked softly and Deon forced himself to nod, eyes still blissfully closed against the pain.

"Impertinent." A woman remarked tartly in Telenien and Deon's heart lurched. He looked up warily and the prince smiled down at him.

"A little, but he's learning." The man said and stroked Deon's cheek. Deon shivered and kept his eyes on those ice grey irises.

"Aren't you, Seyin? You want to be good don't you?" The prince's large hand drifted down to touch Deon's throat, resting warm and heavy on his bruises. Not squeezing. Yet.

"Yes." Deon breathed, pulse pounding rapidly now. He didn't want to be frightened and helpless and weak. But more than anything he wanted the pain to stop.

The prince's smile deepened and he lifted his kilt, pressing Deon's cheek against his half-hard cock.


	9. Training

**A/N: Hello my loves! There's a thunderstorm outside (my favorite weather) and I'm tucked up in a blanket writing this. I hope you're all well! Wherever you are and whatever you're doing 🖤**

**This chapter is unedited.**

**I saw this quote the other day and it made me think of Deon and Alen:**

**"When I saw you,**   
**I fell in love,**   
**And you smiled**   
**because**   
**you**   
**knew."**

**\- William Shakespeare**

**Chapter 9.**

Deon squeezed his eyes shut tightly and swallowed back bile when a spongy head ran over his lip.

"Open." The prince murmured, thumb pressing gently into the joint on Deon's jaw and coaxing his mouth open.

It was disgusting. The warm flesh sliding between his lips and the caresses on his hair. The corners of his mouth stretched wide and the cock tasted both sweet and salty.

The prince sighed in pleasure and murmured encouragement, as if they were lovers. As if Deon had a choice and wouldn't be whipped to within an inch of his life, if he refused.

"Suck hard." The prince breathed and pushed back Deon's long hair, revealing his face more clearly to their audience.

He didn't want to think about the eyes on him. The judgement or the memories that would haunt him later. This was still preferable to pain, he reminded himself. Anything was preferable to that god awful pain.

He suctioned his cheeks and mimicked Roi's actions earlier; trying to finish this as fast as he could.

He tasted the first drops of pre-cum and gagged. The prince pressed a hand to his brow shoved him away. Deon yelped and sprawled on the tiles.

"Lin." The prince gasped and then the blonde was there, taking Deon's place and finishing the job effortlessly.

The prince sighed out his release and Deon felt a pinch on his scalp. The woman with the waist length hair was staring down at him. Large gold earrings brushed the top of her shoulders and kohl lined her almond shaped eyes.

"You need to train." She said in a heavy Peraan accent and snapped her ringed fingers at a boy behind her.

He was a little older than Deon, taller too, with a toned body and black ringlets that glistened with oil. His dark blue eyes fixed on Deon with cold intensity. It reminded Deon of the way his father used to watch a pig, or a lamb, before he slit its throat.

Deon averted his eyes quickly and struggled to sit up. He wasn't a match for a boy like that. Not right now.

The prince wiped his cock with a cloth and covered it with his kilt.

"He does need training, but not by your stallions, sister." The prince drawled and the woman's dark brows slashed into a frown.

"My Leovan would have him obedient in a day." She protested.

"I don't doubt that." The prince's light eyes fell on Deon thoughtfully. "Should I let him have you?"

Deon could feel Leovan's gaze on him, along with every other pair of eyes in the room. He knew instinctively that boy would hurt him and he crawled to the prince's feet.

The heavy-lidded eyes staring down at him weren't much warmer than Leovan's, but Deon knew the prince had a different agenda. This was a test.

The prince had said he didn't enjoy pain and, strangely, Deon believed it. His punishments had little to do with lust; they were all about power and control. The prince wanted obedience, just like Alen had said.

Deon moved tentatively closer, even as his body began to shake. The pain in his head, and the ache between his legs, warned him that more pain would follow if he made one wrong move.

He took a trembling breath and slowly leaned in to kiss the prince's hand, nuzzling it like he'd seen Jessa do earlier.

The prince lifted his arm, and Deon flinched, but the man only cupped his cheek, thumb running over his lower lip. Deon briefly shut his eyes and breathed out in relief. He'd done the right thing.

"Jessa seemed to enjoy you." The prince laughed at Deon's wary expression and snapped his fingers. "Azel."

The dark haired boy stood. He was pretty, with the kind of slender build the prince seemed to prefer. His brown skin and light eyes marked him as Peraan and the smile he flashed towards Deon looked genuine.

"Do you understand now?" The prince tapped Deon's cheek to regain his attention. "If you are good, I reward you. But if you disobey," strong fingers crushed into Deon's jaw and made his breath hiss painfully through his teeth, "I will punish you."

....

The royals finished their meal and Deon was led to Azel's room. Dark purple stone gleamed on the walls and the marble floor was a pure blinding white. Silks, pillows and blankets were tossed haphazardly around the room, but the sheets on the bed looked untouched.

Food and drink decked a silver table and sunlight streamed in from large open windows.

Small glass pots of paint gleamed on a window-seat and a parchment beside them depicted a scene. Deon craned his neck curiously at the artwork, but Azel pulled him gently to a nest of blankets on the floor.

Five guards entered behind them and stood wooden by the wall, observing the boys in silence. Deon had never had so little privacy before, even back home, when he'd shared a room with Alen. Sharing a room with a sibling was nothing like being watched by armed men.

Deon wasn't sure if they were there to protect him or Azel, in case the boys attacked each other, or to ensure they followed the prince's orders. He didn't care either.

He just wanted to relax. To sleep. To rest his sore body and never wake up, because he was beginning to understand that him and his brother might never be able to leave. Even if Alen wanted to.

A caress on his arm had him look over his shoulder. Azel offered him a cup and a plate full of pastries that smelled wonderful.

Deon's stomach growled insistently. The tidbits the prince had offered hardly counted as breakfast and it had to be late afternoon by now.

He propped gingerly up on his elbows and accepted the plate. The pastries were warm and full of meat, vegetables and spices. The drink was hot too and citrusy.

Azel fetched a plate for himself and settled crosslegged opposite Deon. The boy's body was completely exposed and his jewelry only seemed to emphasize his nudity.

He had a heart shaped face, with long black hair braided to his hips, and gold earrings beaded with turquoise stones. Two delicate chains draped over his narrow hips, and connected with a jewel at his navel, and gold bracelets circled his thin ankles.

When they'd finished eating, Azel stood to rinse his hands in a pitcher of water and dipped in a cloth. He returned and sat beside Deon to run the cloth over his mouth.

The boy did it so casually, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to do, that Deon's protests died in his throat.

The cloth felt cool and damp on his lips and it smelled floral. Azel's movements were deft and precise, almost motherly, and Deon found his heart slowing. His shoulders softening. It felt good to be taken care of.

"You don't have to do that." He finally managed to say. Azel didn't react or respond. He probably didn't speak Telenien.

The boy took his time wiping the last flake of sticky pastry off Deon's thumb and dropped the cloth carelessly on the floor beside them.

Then he lifted Deon's hand and pressed a slow kiss to his palm. It tickled and Deon pulled his arm back carefully.

He didn't want to hurt Azel. There was something gentle about the boy. He had as little choice in this situation as Deon - he was only doing what he'd been told to do.

Azel let Deon's wrist slide easily from his fingers, but he didn't move away. Instead he looked up, pale grey eyes connecting with Deon's directly.

The boy had very long lashes. They reminded Deon of a deer he had snuck up on once. It had stared at him for an instant, before it darted across the field and disappeared into the forest.

"Neitan lefen." The boy said softly in Peraan and Deon just shook his head, wincing when it caused a stab of pain behind his right eye. "Ooh."

Azel cooed with sympathy and he touched Deon's face, cool fingers trailing over his cheeks and pressing firmly beneath his brows. The pain in his head eased a bit and Deon couldn't bring himself to pull away.

He felt Azel lean closer, fingers skimming up toward Deon's hairline and finding another tender spot. The pain retreated further and Deon sighed.

The boy's clever fingers ran over Deon's head, the sides of his neck, and even found a pressure point behind his ears.

It was as if all the pain drained away with those touches. They returned the instant Azel moved his hands, but the boy quickly found other sore spots and massaged gently.

Deon groaned and Azel's mouth touched his in a soft kiss. It was so light, it was barely a kiss at all. Just a whisper of warmth.

"Letka men." Azel pushed lightly against Deon's shoulders and he lay back against a red blanket. The boy's feathery lips moved over his bruised throat, his chest and a tongue laved over his nipple.

Deon frowned. He wasn't sure he liked that. Azel moved to his other nipple and suckled that one too, hands running down Deon's arms and pressing the joints firmly.

"Yeref'a?" Azel murmured and moved lower to tongue Deon's navel.

That felt strange, but the soft kisses on his pelvis felt good. "...I don't know what you're saying, Azel." He exhaled as his cock hardened.

"Hmm." The boy trailed a single fingertip up Deon's shaft.

After several minutes of torturously soft caresses, kisses and licks, Deon was ready to burst.

"Stop teasing! Please." He reached for Azel feverishly and the boy moved into his arms, slender body pressing wonderfully firm against him, as their mouths touched. Open and wet.

Azel finally gripped Deon's pulsing cock and he came so hard he saw stars. Liquid warmth flooded his body until it blazed and his spine arched. The tension unwound and he slumped against the blanket, breaths slowing.

"Hm." Azel smiled at him softly, and allowed him a few minutes to come down, before the boy guided Deon's head to his slender neck. "Talath hei?"

In this instance, Deon could guess what the boy was saying. Something along the lines of:_ touch me?_

Azel's skin smelled sweet as burnt sugar and Deon kissed it. It was only fair. Azel was putting in a lot of effort and he really seemed to want Deon to enjoy this.

"Mm." Azel hummed his approval and moved Deon's head to his chest next. The boy's nipples were small and brown and Deon licked one into his mouth. "Mm!"

Azel stroked Deon's head and murmured softly, sighing when Deon moved to the other nipple and mimicked the boy's actions earlier. Even if he hadn't particularly enjoyed having his nipples played with, Azel seemed to.

He lowered his head further and kissed down Azel's smooth chest, swirling his tongue into the furrow of the boy's navel, tasting the cool stone of a jewel, and nibbling a sharp hipbone.

He paused and stared at the boy's hard cock. It was curved and slim, much smaller than the prince's, with a pale pink head that glistened already. He remembered the prince's taste and jerked away as bile filled his mouth.

"Satale!" Azel scrambled to his feet and fetched Deon another cup, stroking his nape soothingly while he panted through nausea and drank.

Azel took the cup, when Deon had finished, and pressed Deon's head to his shoulder.

"Namal-teva." The boy breathed and kissed Deon's bruises light enough that it didn't hurt. "Namal-teva salyve, hm?"

"I still don't know what you're saying." Deon mumbled into the boy's skin, but he didn't mind. Azel's words might have rubbed Deon the wrong way, if they had understood each other.

But they didn't and Deon could only feel the boy's warmth against him. Could only listen to his soft voice and feel his steady heartbeat.

Awhile later, Azel was able to coax Deon back on the blanket and start over. Licking and stroking and kissing, until Deon was aching with need.

This time he came in Azel's mouth. There really was nothing like the pleasure of releasing on a warm tongue.

And eventually, Deon was able to reciprocate. It took a few tries, but Azel was endlessly patient. The boy tasted much lighter than the prince. His cock was smoother, sweeter, but his pre-cum was still salty.

Deon managed to keep going, even though his mouth filled with sickening saliva. He found himself wanting to do this for Azel - as a thank you - for making this experience a lot more pleasant than it would have been with Jessa or Leovan.

It helped that the boy's shaft was around the same size as Alen's. Maybe this was what his brother tasted like. Deon had yet to find out.

Azel was trembling against the blankets - dark skin wet with perspiration and lungs heaving - and when he finally came, Deon forced himself to swallow every drop, like he knew the prince would want him to in the future.

"Salyve noyva." Azel laughed breathlessly and beamed down at Deon. His grey eyes shone and a few strands of glossy black hair had escaped his braid. "Yeref'a dem, Seyin."


	10. Pride

**A/N: Hi lovely people, I finally got around to updating this story! It still needs a lot of work, but I'm a perfectionist and trying to be a bit less critical. That way I might post more often 😅 How are you all holding up in quarantine? 🖤**

**Chapter 10.**

Servants entered Azel's chamber at dawn, carrying platters of spiced vegetables, eggs and fruit. Deon rubbed the grit from his eyes and frowned at Azel. The boy blinked at him and smiled serenely.

Deon frowned harder. He was sore all over from sleeping on the floor. Azel had never moved towards the bed last night and when Deon had tried to tug him towards it, the boy had resisted him and curled up on the blankets.

Deon didn't want to sleep alone - especially not since his nightmares had started - and he'd reluctantly settled beside Azel. The blankets were silken, but they hardly cushioned the stone floor.

It was difficult to get comfortable and whenever Deon began to drift off, he heard the steps of the guards as their shift rotated throughout the night. Silent, armed figures were always present and it was unsettling to catch glimpses of their stony faces in the dark.

The servants hovered over the boys, as they ate their breakfast, and Deon took the hint that he was expected to eat quickly. The minute his plate was empty, a girl touched his arm and gestured towards the door.

Deon's eyes felt scratchy from lack of sleep and his steps were heavy on the grand staircase. The warm water in the baths was a relief to his sore muscles and so were the efficient fingers scrubbing his scalp.

Azel and Deon were the only boys present and Deon was able to enjoy the servants ministrations, without feeling self-conscious.

Soft morning light flowed in from the terrace and the only sounds were the light chatter of the women and trickles of water.

When one of the servants unravelled his bandages, she washed and oiled his back, but didn't reapply the dressing. His wounds had closed.

He endured having his cuff reapplied to his arm and his hair elaborately braided, but he balked when they dabbed gold paint on his eyelids, earning a stinging whack to his hip.

Azel flashed him a conscillatory grin. The boy's black hair was arranged in soft waves, falling past his thin waist, and his eyes were lined in turqoise.

A slave girl showed them through the garden, and Azel took Deon's hand, threading their fingers casually. It was a chaste gesture, compared to everything they had shared last night, but it made Deon's heart flutter. Maybe because it was voluntary and not forced.

Perhaps, Azel could become his friend. Deon didn't know if he would be a good friend. He wasn't charming and talkative, like Alen or even Gell. But maybe, with the language barrier, Azel wouldn't mind.

With his brother absent for so long, it would be nice to have someone else to rely on. Azel might even be persuaded to sleep on a bed.

Deon snuck a glance at the tranquil figure beside him. Azel was humming a tune softly and trailing his free hand over the leaves, as they passed trees and exotic flowers. He seemed to be absorbed in his own world, grey eyes dreamy and unfocused, but his thumb stroked Deon's hand.

They reached the edge of the garden and followed a path to a training yard full of soldiers.

They were mostly grown men, but a few looked barely older than himself. They wore loincloths and moved with swift practiced grace, bringing down their opponents like wild cats. Their dark skin gleamed in the sun and their muscles bulged.

Deon stared and felt his breaths quicken. He was certain that if he got the chance, he could learn to fight like that. Then no one would ever be able to overpower him again.

The prince was among them, wrestling as competently as any of the soldiers. Deon hadn't noticed that his steps had slowed, until Azel pulled on his hand.

He reluctantly followed Azel up marble steps to a pavilion. A few Peraan boys were lounging decoratively on rugs and pillows, glittering with jewels and painted like dolls, a stark juxtaposition to the warriors in the yard.

Deon cringed with the knowledge that he was one of them.

Four more boys were circled around Roi, touching his bright curls and tickling his fair skin. Roi was flushed pink and giggling. Their eyes met briefly and the blonde's lips thinned.

He was still angry then. Deon didn't know what to do about that, so he looked away.

Further along the low wall, Jessa and Alen were lounging on cushions. Deon's heart leapt and he released Azel to stride forward.

His brother was ignoring him, it was easy to tell by the way he leaned into Jessa and whispered intimately in the boy's ear. He couldn't miss someone advancing on him this fast, he must have noticed Deon earlier.

Alen's raven hair had been braided in the same style as Deon's and his lids were also painted gold. The slaves must have matched them deliberately. His supple torso was bandaged and Deon's stomach twisted tight.

Why had Alen been whipped and when had it happened? Had he been bed-ridden all this time? Deon had thought Alen was punishing him for something, by staying away.

He felt a cold pang of guilt, followed quickly by anger. Because anger was easier to deal with.

"What happened?" Deon crouched beside his brother and scowled at Jessa. The redhead's green eyes brightened, as if Deon's ire excited him, and his smile showed a hint of teeth.

"What do you care?" Alen said and the ice in his voice made Deon's own hackles raise. "I haven't seen you in three days."

Rich, male laughter made the boys turn their attention to the prince and a man walking up the pavillion steps. The prince's lithe body gleamed with sweat and he moved with the lazy confidence of someone who knew his body well and trained it often.

The man beside him was older and powerfully muscled. His dark hair was graying at the temples and when he sat in a chair, it groaned beneath his weight.

A slave girl served the men sweetmeats on a tray and poured cups of pale wine. They spoke in Peraan, with an easy atmosphere between them.

The man suddenly looked straight towards the twins, eyes raking over them in a way that made Deon's skin crawl. When their eyes met, Deon angled himself slightly in front of Alen and lifted his chin.

The man smiled slowly and turned his head, speaking to the prince in low tones. Deon felt a chill run down his spine. Something bad was about to happen, he was sure of it.

He remained tense and expectant. And sure enough, the prince snapped his fingers and indicated his companion's chair. "Seya, entertain my general. Seyin, come here."

Alen stood and walked lightly to the warrior's chair. Deon moved towards the prince, but his attention remained fixed on his brother.

It was torture to watch him go to another man. One that wasn't even the prince!

He hated the way the general's large hand reached out to caress Alen's slim hip. He hated how Alen smiled and knelt slowly, hands reaching for the man's loincloth.

A second snap of fingers had Deon's head swiveling forward and a blow slammed into his cheek. He staggered to one knee and spat blood onto the marble floor. His teeth had cut the inside of his lip.

A fist clamped into his hair and forced his head up. He gazed up at the prince with stark terror, anger snuffed like a pinched candleflame.

"I thought you were learning." The man hissed.

He pushed aside his loincloth and dragged Deon's head down, forcing himself into the boy's mouth.

His cock tasted of sweat and musk. Skin hot and grainy with sand from the training yard. Deon tried not to gag, but the prince wasn't gentle, and Azel was much smaller than he was.

It wasn't long before Deon was shoved away with a kick.

The prince sneered and called for Jessa. The redhead eagerly finished the task, fingertips trailing teasingly over the man's thighs and scrotum.

When the prince's face went slack with release, he looked down at Deon through half-closed eyes.

"You want your brother? You can have him." He motioned to Alen. "Seya."

Alen lifted his head from the general's crotch, red lips wet with the man's essence. He approached them quickly and avoided looking at Deon.

"Here." The prince tossed Alen a flask of oil. "Use him."

Alen's eyes widened, but he uncapped the flask without hesitation, and poured oil into his palm. He took the ring off his cock and stroked his flagging erection to hardness.

Deon watched with growing dread, eyes flicking between the prince and his brother.

"Down." The prince indicated the floor and Deon lowered himself uncertainly. His heart thudded, when a sand covered foot pressed onto his head and forced his cheek against sun-warmed stone.

He felt Alen's hands on his hips, guiding them up, until his ass was high in the air. His cock hung flaccid between his legs and his face flushed hot with shame.

Alen's fingers slid between his buttocks, and pressed inside to slick his bruised passage. A sharp ache spread from the area and Deon swallowed convulsively.

"That's enough." The prince snapped.

Alen's fingers withdrew and then the warm tip of his cock was pressing inside. Pain sliced up his spine and a small sound escaped his throat.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Alen and Deon had only kissed and used their hands to explore each other, almost innocently. And even when they had fought, they always made up sweetly.

But this felt wrong. Dirty. They were siblings performing an unnatural act in front of an audience.

This wasn't about pleasure. It was humiliation and Deon felt it to his core. He was the one who protected Alen. He was always the strong one. The masculine one.

And all the soldiers, that he had admired, were probably watching too. They would never accept him now.

His eyes smarted and he grit his teeth. Alen was moving now and each thrust brought on a fresh roil of pain.

Deon clenched his hands against the stone. He hated his brother in that moment. He knew Alen wouldn't want this, but it still felt like a betrayal.

"Faster." The prince ordered and Alen obeyed, even though his back had to be hurting. With a strangled gasp Alen came, cock twitching inside Deon, before it pulled out. Quick and impersonal.

A trickle of wetness slid over Deon's balls and thigh, and he shuddered, throat tight with supressed tears.

"Jessa." The prince said and Deon jerked with shock. The heel on his head ground him harder against the stone.

He listened to Jessa's feet pad swiftly over the floor and felt himself start to tremble. The thought of being touched by that boy was repulsive.

He wanted to tear away and run. But he knew he wouldn't get far and his next punishment would no doubt be worse than this.

Jessa gripped Deon's hips hard enough to bruise and jammed his prick inside. It hurt much worse this time. It became clear that Alen had been holding back, because his thrusts hadn't been anywhere near this painful.

One by one, the boys all had him. The pain started to morph into a pounding nausea that made Deon fear he was about to vomit, but the moment passed and left him sweating.

The prince eventually lost interest and resumed his conversation, as if nothing was amiss.

And that was when Deon started to cry. He tried not to make a sound, but his shoulders shook and tears ran down his cheeks.

When the final boy had finished, Deon didnt know who, and stepped away, the prince seemed to remember Deon's existence again.

He lifted his foot off the boy's head, gripped his jaw and spat right on his mouth. "You're a whore. Say it."

"I-I'm a w-whore." Deon attempted, fighting the reflex to wipe his lips. He felt saliva dribble sickeningly down his chin.

"Again."

"I'm a whore." Deon said more loudly and the prince released him. He ordered all of his boys to spit on Deon and had the guards drag him away.

The slaves thankfully took him to his room, where they filled a large tub and helped him sit.

Deon stared blankly into the water as the women washed his skin. He felt lightheaded and distant, as if he was sleepwalking, and involuntary tremors kept wracking his body.

The healer arrived and shooed out the younger women. She dried him off and applied a cooling balm gently between his legs. Then she made him drink a cup of earthy tea and tucked him into bed.

Deon's eyes closed and he was asleep almost instantly, but it wasn't long before he woke with a start. His dreams were haunted by fog and unseen hands clawing at his skin.

Fire raged between his legs and left him panting. He tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn't.

Sometime during the night, his door opened. Deon froze and hid his face in his pillow.

"Seyin." The prince murmured and Deon felt his blanket slide from his skin. He shook and whimpered when a hand stroked down his back. Warm and possessive. "Come now, look at me."

For an instant Deon wanted to resist, but he didn't dare to. Slowly, he turned, gasping when the movement made his ass throb. The prince pressed a cup to his lips. "Drink."

Deon crushed his eyes shut and drank, nearly choking on the sharp flavor. A few drops trickled down his cheek and neck. The prince murmured soothingly and stroked Deon's hair.

When the cup was empty he placed it on the nightstand and wiped the boy's face with a cloth. It made Deon feel very young and helpless.

He shut his eyes tight again and felt the man move over him, caging Deon with his arms. He lowered himself and covered the boy in warm sleek skin. Large hands cupped his buttocks, gently tugging them apart and then a hot tip was pushing inside his raw channel.

Deon released a strangled cry and twisted his head away, until his neck ached.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" The prince breathed against his ear, cock a large, unforgiving rod inside him. "Do you like pain?"

"...no." Deon choked out, eyes blinded by tears.

"Then stop resisting." Lips feathered down his exposed throat, tongue flicking against his skin.

_I'm not._ Deon wanted to say, but in that moment the prince's hips tilted and rubbed over a spot that made the boy shout and sob with agony.

He kept rubbing it over and over, until Deon became hoarse and his skin was wet with sweat. He was stretched far too wide. He couldn't breathe. But something strange was happening. His cock was hard.

A horrible pleasure was building and the boy's sobs mixed with moans.

The prince's hand caressed him, sweeping over his ribs, to his hip and up again. It was confusing. Why was he acting gentle and cruel at the same time? Was this a punishment? A reward?

He never stopped kissing Deon's throat, licking him, and murmuring silkily in his ear. When a strong hand squeezed Deon's cock, his orgasm was white hot and painful.

Afterwards, he was barely conscious and he felt the prince pull him closer like a rag doll.

The flesh inside him was moving faster now and the prince came with a low groan. He stayed that way for long moments, just holding Deon, while his cock softened inside the boy.

It barely hurt anymore. In fact, Deon was starting to feel a warmth curl through him and his skin tingled. The world was tilting and only the heavy body on top of him kept him from falling off the bed.

When the man kissed him, he opened his mouth. He felt each glide of tongue like a tug in his groin and his cock thickened.

When the prince touched him there, he moaned with pleasure. It built and built, in sweet bursts as their mouths moved. Heat and slick and quickening breaths, until he came a second time.

The prince was hard again now and his hips began to rock with a squelching sound. Cock pushing slow and deep, touching that delicous spot that made Deon tremble.

Their lips parted and Deon caught a flash of heavy lidded silver eyes, staring down at him like a demon in the dark. He opened his arms and let it drag him under.


End file.
